


The sun is here, you remembered

by Anonymous



Series: Anon A's writing [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, First Time, Gentle Sex, Heyyy it's Anon A :D, Idiots in Love, Knight Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), M/M, Porn with Feelings, Prince Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), but then also like, slightly rough sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:02:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29756574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: As their relationship grows, the pressure to be more -do more- together weighs on the prince's shoulders. He has his concerns about the 'next time' he had promised Clay their first night together, but luckily his knight is there to ease his worry.A continuation of "When the rain falls, will you remember me?"
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Anon A's writing [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2093610
Comments: 27
Kudos: 149
Collections: anonymous





	The sun is here, you remembered

**Author's Note:**

> After almost 2 months, here it is folks, that 'next time'
> 
> No warnings for this one; if there's something else that you think should be warned for or tagged please don't hesitate to let me know!
> 
> Thank you so so much to all the people who left comments on When the rain falls, and to those who were eager to see more of these boys! I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> Beta'd once again by the lovely Kota <3

It had been a month.

A month since their first _encounter_ that held anything other than a bitter history. A month since something had changed between them. A month since the breaking down of walls.

They fell into a pattern. Careful looks, public faces, trying their best to be civil to one another. Whether that be staving off the impulse brought about by a years-long practice—annoying the living hell out of each other—or similarly holding off on their newfound lust. To the public eye, they kept things well and truly hidden.

People weren't stupid, though, and began to take notice, commenting on the fact they didn't seem to hate each other anymore. A sign to anyone else that they had possibly matured. A sign to _them_ that their needy, secret past time had perhaps eased the tension between them, or at least had turned it into something else.

They had given each other an innumerable amount of quick handjobs that left them both wanting more. Clay had fucked the prince's thighs another couple of times, and, on one occasion, the knight sank to his knees. Dutifully pleasuring Nick with his mouth, the knight watched the other man unravel under his care through thick, light eyelashes. Nick had clung to blond hair with a vice grip, moaning absolute nonsense and praise.

It was a bit embarrassing, honestly, just how often they met up in private. How they would let lingering glances be the invitations to another night together. They would rush off, hushed and tucked away in the confines of Nick's room, and drive each other wild, kiss each other senseless.

Despite it all, they still hadn't followed up on Nick's initial promise from their first time. The words he said, the implications of that _next time_ lingered, never quite arriving despite all the opportunities they had to take it.

Clay wasn't pushing it. He hadn't mentioned it again, really. Well, he had purred hot prose against the prince's neck during one of their _intimate_ moments, dangerous words promising he would absolutely ruin the prince, and craved the warmth of being inside him. Something that in the moment made Nick groan, and _after_ the moment made him flush, his mind spending too long lingering on the idea of Clay finally taking him— _properly._

But it hadn’t come to fruition, yet. Nick was still far too scared for that, but he was trying.

Trying to remind himself that Clay would be gentle, that the knight would spoil him rotten, would hold him like porcelain, as he promised. Trying to argue with himself that he was ready for this, that he _wanted_ this so, so incredibly much; and he _did_ , it was just the process of quelling the festering worry inside of him. A vague paranoia that bit at the back of his mind. He didn’t even know _what_ he was scared of, just that he was scared.

Clay was patient, though, and they were both _more_ than happy with what they were already doing together. Again, he never pushed. Nick had time; time to think, and to ready himself. He didn’t feel rushed to say yes, or cornered by the decision. He knew he would feel ready at some point, it was just a matter of when.

But, until then, he and Clay would continue their little meetings as per usual, finding other ways to make each other hot; get each other off. Drag each other into dark, secluded corners, make each other melt.

They had gotten lazy and careless. They became more prone to lingering together after sex, to fall asleep in each other’s warm arms. Was it loving? Nick wasn’t sure, he really wasn’t. But he did know waking up with the knight’s chest pressed against his back, an arm thrown over his waist, the soft, sleeping breath of Clay against his neck...it made him _feel_ loved, a consistent warmth in the winter that still raged, so he kept coming back to it. When he woke up, warm under the covers with the knight— _his_ knight—holding him close, he felt safe, he felt at peace.

As he did this morning, blinking eyes still heavy with sleep open to the rays of sun beaming through his large bedroom window. The curtains were drawn, the sheers letting softened light coat the room in a hazy, morning yellow. Dust specks danced in slow patterns in the light. Nick breathed in the still air, and stretched, feeling the resistance against his back as he arched against Clay’s chest. He let out a yawn, settling back into the warm duvet he had left in the mattress.

The knight hadn’t awoken yet, his nose still buried in dark auburn hair, one arm still draped over the prince’s side. He was breathing gently, Nick soothed by the rhythmic rise and fall of Clay’s chest against his back. Nick, not _entirely_ immune to fondness himself, squirmed under the knight’s arm, turning himself over so he was facing the other man, instead.

He loved waking up like this, loved resting in the candid period of early morning drowsiness for as long as he could manage. It was simply _comfortable_ with Clay; everything was. Everything except, well...but Nick didn’t want to think about that, not right now. He wanted to enjoy this moment.

Nick swallowed his worry, instead focusing on Clay. The other man looked truly at peace while he was resting, the stress of knighthood washed away under the gentle waves of sleep. Nick simply gazed at him. Some part of him felt lucky he had this; whatever this was.

He reached up with a tentative hand, resting it in soft blond hair. He waited, breath held as the knight shifted, his eyelashes fluttering, but he remained asleep. Nick sighed. He carded his fingers through strands of gold, musing them even more despite the knight’s hair already being tangled while they slept. He brushed Clay’s bangs out of his face idly, his brain returning to his thoughts.

He had time to think, in this bubble they created, in the soft, unreal hours of the morning where they simply laid there, content and warm. Perhaps he had a bit too much space to think, because his mind quickly wandered to the things he’d rather not dwell upon. Unsavory thoughts about their future, about how they danced so scarily on the line of love. They would never be able to marry; if that was even a thought in their minds. Nick was still a prince, and Clay was still only his knight, after all. He thought too long on the possibility of a reality in which Clay only wanted him for his body, and once he got what he wanted their soft, candle-lit meetings would stop. Nick knew it wasn’t true, he wasn’t just a conquest to the knight, but the thoughts still burned in the back of his skull. Moving on and trying to think better thoughts, Nick continued to muse the other man’s hair, twisting it gently between his fingers. 

Clay was an interesting person. Despite the prince knowing him for almost his entire life, they never really talked, much preferring to let their interactions boil down to insults and dirty looks. Now, however, Nick saw a different side of Clay, the man behind the fire, the one who was so much more than the ego Nick fought against for years.

Nick learned too much about Clay, from the way he laughed like a tea kettle to the little habits he had. He laid in the grass on clear nights, counting the stars if he couldn’t sleep. He was good at chess. He loved cats, and brought spare food to the strays that lived just outside the castle gates on the daily. The cook’s children loved him because he taught them how to properly hold a sword, and let them run around with his helmet once.

It was funny, almost, how drastically their dynamic had changed. It used to be so terse, so prickly. They bickered over the littlest things, did their best to get a rise out of the other no matter what that entailed. Now Nick got soft touches from rough hands, kind words from previously such cruel lips. How could someone be so pretty and so painful at the same time? The memories of the worst they had between them still lingered, but they weren’t children anymore, and they had found solace in each other. If Nick thought about it for too long he might cry.

“Good morning, my prince.” The words startled Nick, who re-focused his attention to see sleepy, green eyes gazing back at him. Clay moved slowly, still heavy with sleep. He pulled a hand up from under the comforter, bringing it to rest on top of Nick’s own hand. “Rest well?”

Nick answered with a simple hum, to which Clay frowned. Despite their best efforts, they knew each other too well.

“Something wrong?” the knight asked, hand closing over Nick’s with a tender squeeze.

“Just thinking,” Nick admitted. Clay made a quiet hum of understanding.

“Care to share?” he prompted, but left room for the prince to decline, to keep his thoughts to himself. Nick took a moment to think.

"Nothing important, just stressing over stupid things," he said eventually. Clay looked over Nick’s face, tracing every line, every curve. He knew that wasn’t the case, but he didn’t push. He never pushed.

“Alright, if you’re sure,” he mumbled, turning his head to press a kiss to Nick’s palm. The prince watched with his own tired eyes as Clay’s lips caressed his skin, pushing sweet, light kisses to his hand, then down his wrist. 

“I just—” Nick cut himself off with a resigned sigh, returning to the topic he had wanted to drop. Surely it would be better to just get it out, while they were tired and lazy with sleep, dutifully honest in the morning rays of the sun. “Do you want to have sex?”

Clay paused in his kissing, blinking up at Nick with mild surprise in his eyes. “Now?”

“ _No_ ,” Nick said, perhaps a bit too quickly.

“Oh, okay.” Clay couldn’t suppress a smile, one that made the prince scoff, but he continued.

“I meant in general. I feel like I’ve been in my own head about it so much, I forget to ask for your piece sometimes.” Nick wriggled his hand out of the blond’s grip now that Clay wasn’t peppering kisses to his wrist. He drew the comforter back up around him, over his shoulders. _Protection_.

“I mean, we have been, haven’t we?” Clay raised an eyebrow. It was true, everything they had done together couldn’t really be called anything but sex; there was too much desperation and cumming for it to be anything but. But that was beside the point.

“No, I mean. Well, yes, but,” Nick stammered.

“You mean like _proper_ ,” Clay guessed, his voice heavy on the last word, an obvious tease. Sure enough, that _stupid_ smile on his face only grew. “ _Intercourse_.”

“Stop,” Nick said, without really meaning it.

“You want my dick in you?”

“Jesus _Christ_ , shut the ever-loving fuck up. You’re _so_ annoying.” Nick thumped a hand against the knight’s chest in mock abhorrence; an action that made Clay in turn wheeze out a laugh.

“Sorry,” Clay said, also without really meaning it.

“I hate you,” Nick groaned. “So much.”

“I know.” The knight grinned. _Ugh._

“If you _have_ to know, though,” Nick started, with far too much confidence. It trickled out of his voice when Clay’s eyes pooled with interest. “Yes… I do. And quite frankly it scares me.”

“What’s scary about it?” Clay asked. “Think it’s too big to fit?”

“ _Literally_ shut _up,_ or I’ll kick you out naked into the hallway,” Nick deadpanned. “I’m trying to be serious.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Clay said bashfully, turning his face more into his pillow to hide his smile. “Please, highness, continue.”

Nick rolled his eyes. He did appreciate the brevity Clay brought to the situation, at least.

“I dunno, it’s just,” he mused. He let the hand still resting by Clay’s chest from his weak attack earlier trail up, and scratch a gentle line over the blond’s collarbones. “I’ve never done it before, not like that, and the unknown is always scary, I suppose.”

“That’s fair.” Clay’s tone was even and understanding. “Anything I can do to reassure you?”

It was an honest offer, one that Nick appreciated. The brunet made a low hum, thinking for a moment.

“Just…promise you’ll go slow,” he said.

“Of course.”

“And check in with me,” Nick continued.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I just…” Nick trailed off as Clay’s hand once again reached up to close over his own. He looked at the connection, the knight’s broad hand, pale and freckled over the expanse of Nick’s own, resting on Clay’s chest. “I want it to be good.”

“So do I,” Clay admitted. His voice was lower, his tone dropping to meet the prince’s; honest and clear. “Trust me, my prince, I’ll make it good for you.”

Nick breathed out a response after a moment of contemplation. 

“Okay, I trust you.”

-

They set up a time; a date, a place. Having it set in stone now was simultaneously a relief and also not. Nick kept checking the clocks, kept running through time in his head faster than it moved around him in the hopes he would blink and Clay would be there, with an enticing smile and a hand on his hip to pull him close and ease the worry away.

The anxiety shifted into something new. _Anticipation_.

Suddenly the gnawing fear sparked down the prince’s spine in a way that made him shiver; it was a fear he looked forward to in some masochistic way. He thought too long and hard about the night to come, but instead of worrying his lip between his teeth until it bled, the idea pulled him into sheets, urged his hand between his legs and made him whimper and keen into an empty room. Just the _thought alone_. God.

It was a Thursday night; unsuspecting, casual. It wasn’t meant to be a grandiose _event_ , it was just between the prince and his closest knight, alone in Nick’s chambers as they always were together.

Nick, admittedly, fussed over himself for far too long. He took a bath, preened his hair, stared at himself in the mirror to see what Clay would see. He pulled on a robe, then decided _no, that isn’t the right fit_. He folded the silk robe away and changed it for casual clothes. _Also strange, getting dressed up to be undressed_. He settled eventually on a loose white blouse and lounge pants. _Whatever, it’d do._ As long as he was comfortable and decent enough.

Thoughts scattered, he paced the room, spent too long looking at the intricacy of his carpeting, and eventually ended up laying on his bed; legs over the edge, hands laced on his chest, staring at his ceiling. Just waiting.

_Anticipation_.

It held a different weight than their other meet-ups. The air was heavier. Perhaps because it was planned ahead of time, whereas their previous flings had all been heated, in the moment, passionate. There was something _new_ about knowing what was to come, and being forced to wait.

The knock on his door made the prince jump up. Scrambling to look like he hadn’t been lounging and half-asleep, he straightened up, brushing down his front, before walking to the door. He opened it, grip tight on a gilded handle.

Clay looked no different than always, but the opening door swept the scent of lavender into Nick’s face. _How sweet, he brushed up as well._

“Hello,” Clay greeted, a gentle smile on his face. His eyes flickered over Nick, then back to his face. Nick did the same.

“Hi,” the prince said.

“Can I come in?” Clay asked, noting that Nick hadn’t moved out of the way in the doorframe. He shuffled closer, betraying his eagerness.

“Mm, being forward already.” Nick clicked his tongue. “I dunno, _can_ you?”

Clay only raised an eyebrow.

“Say please,” Nick ordered. He watched as Clay’s brain worked, debating if it was worth a fight already.

“Your highness,” he eventually started. Dropping his voice to a low, dangerous tone that _rumbled_ from his chest and into Nick’s. “May I please enter your room?”

“Finally, some chivalry,” Nick scoffed, brushing off the way the _look_ in Clay’s eyes made him feel. _Wanted_. “I would have thought you lost it all.”

Clay breathed out an amused huff of air. “I’m still a knight, dear prince.”

“I know,” Nick said stiffly. He just liked thinking of the Clay that pinned him down and called him a whore on dark nights they only shared with each other as different to the man who set his jaw and held a sword like it was the only thing meant for his hands to hold. Nick supposed that was unfair; people were allowed to be complicated.

He stepped out of the way, finally allowing Clay into his room. Nick took a breath as the knight passed him by, and shut the door behind him. They stood between the door and the bed, eyes flitting over each other and around the room. Eventually Clay cleared his throat.

“So,” Clay started, clapping his hands together. A sly, lopsided grin painted his face, ambition sparkling in green eyes.

“Please don’t make this awkward,” Nick cut him off. Clay made an indignant noise, his dark, purring poise falling away for a moment.

“I wasn’t going to!”

“You _were,_ ” Nick insisted. “You were about to say something stupid.”

“I was not,” Clay bit back. Nick knew better.

“Shut up.” The prince sighed, pulling a face when his words came out sweet and fond. _Disgusting_.

“Sure,” the knight said with a regained bravado. He took the opportunity to close the gap between them, taking a step and leaning down, connecting their lips. Nick rolled his eyes, but leaned into the kiss. Clay quickly brought up a hand to cup the prince’s jaw, thumbing lightly over a dusting of stubble. His other hand rested gently on Nick’s hip.

The prince lingered on the sensations; the knight’s large hands and his soft, seeking lips. Clay’s hand slipping from Nick’s jaw to the back of his head, brushing down the short hairs and locking the prince in a longer kiss, deepened with a nip to his bottom lip. The knight’s fingers curled into a grip, tightening on Nick’s hip. A gentle squeeze made Nick sigh against the other man’s lips. Clay pushed gently, easing Nick to walk back until his legs hit the edge of his bed.

Clay barely broke away to let Nick sit down, giving the prince all but a second to sit and shuffle back enough so the knight could kneel over him, one leg between his thighs. Clay dove straight in for another kiss. They kissed, long and deep, with practiced movements of hands and lips. Over they’d only gotten to know each other all too well. Clay nipped at Nick’s bottom lip, a sharp spark that made a rumbling groan bubble up from the prince’s throat.

Clay’s hands roamed again; grabbing, gripping, pushing the prince back up his bed so they both had enough room to lay down before returning to their exploration. They trailed up, ghosting the hem of the loose white shirt the prince barely had the patience to keep on. Luckily enough for him, Clay was only equally as impatient, and pulled it up and off.

Throwing the blouse off into the dim shadows of the room, Clay took only a moment to rake his eyes over the prince. _A landscape of gold he never got tired of exploring,_ the knight had admitted softly one night. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to Nick’s breast bone. Letting his forehead rest for a moment against warm skin, he sighed with content.

“You’re so pretty,” he mumbled, and the prince went to scoff and retort, but was only able to gasp when teeth sunk into his collarbone. A moan shortly followed, when the sharp bite of teeth was replaced with apologetic kisses, littering love over the mark that would be left for the morning. Clay moved, and repeated. 

He bit and kissed, lapping lines and nipping trails, pushing bruises into tanned skin, leaving brands of his teeth where only the two of them and the mirror would ever see. Nick pushed up into every touch, arched his back against the flat of Clay’s palm when the knight smoothed his hand down Nick’s side and then up his back. He tangled his own hands into blond hair, keeping Clay held down, a silent beg to be marked, to be claimed.

While his mouth stayed fixed ravishing the prince’s chest, Clay’s hands wandered. Sliding down to rest at the prince’s tailbone, and then around the curve of his hips. Down the flat of skin taught between hip bone and navel. Nick gasped and tightened his grip on his knight’s hair when Clay’s traveling hands slipped between his thighs, kneading gently, coaxing them apart.

His hands moved, hot and heavy over Nick’s thighs, even through the light fabric of his slacks. Clay quickly bothered himself with removing them, closing the gap between skin and skin, leaving the prince to shudder, now laid bare.

Nick was about to protest to moving forward, but again, they knew each other too well, and Clay pulled back. Stripping himself and discarding his own clothes off the edge of the bed to be forgotten for now. His hands were back on the prince in an instant.

Clay trailed a hand down the other man’s side, tracing patterns across the prince’s waist and his hip bone. He smoothed his open hand down Nick’s thigh, kneading his thumb gently into warm exposed skin. Nick jumped at the movement, making Clay pause and retract.

“Hey.” Clay leaned down, carefully brushing the prince’s bangs off his face in a tender movement. His hair was already mused, splayed out around his head. Clay cupped the other man’s cheek, and Nick sighed, resting the weight of his head in Clay’s palm. “Are you still nervous?”

“A bit,” Nick admitted, casting his gaze away from the far too soft eyes of the knight. Needless to say, despite all the mental preparation he had done, this still scared him. Maybe if they hadn’t started this nasty habit of being so nice to each other it wouldn’t terrify him as much, but sadly Clay was painfully kind, awfully patient, and _terribly_ fond.

“That’s alright,” Clay said, and Nick almost _groaned_ , because he meant it.

“You’re _so_ stupid,” Nick let slip, words hollow. His internal dialogue was unknown to the knight, causing Clay to respond with a raised eyebrow and a smile. _That_ Nick did groan at. “God, I hate you. Idiot.”

Clay hummed in turn, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the prince’s lips. Nick let out an exhausted, annoyed noise that took too much effort to manifest and kissed him back.

“Do you have lube?” Clay asked as he pulled back.

_Ah_ , there it was.

“Side table,” Nick answered simply. He watched as Clay pulled away, reaching over to the table he was directed to. He pulled open the drawer, rooting around for a moment before he came back with a vial.

Nick squeezed his eyes shut, ears listening acutely to the gentle ruffle of sheets as Clay re-situated himself between the prince’s thighs. Clay pushed his legs apart gently, and Nick bit his lip. He felt so exposed, even under the gaze of just one other man. If anything, Clay’s eyes unraveled him more.

He waited, strangled by _anticipation_ once again. _Deep breaths, Nick._

He gasped, surprised by the sudden sensation of a finger pressed against him, warm and wet.

“You still good?” Clay asked, taking note of the prince jumping at his touch.

“Yes,” Nick breathed. “Get on with it.”

Clay made a low noise in his throat, a hum that said he was amused with the prince’s feigned begrudging indifference. He could see the way Nick’s skin was on fire, feel the way his thighs shook gently even at the _implication_ of Clay being inside of him. He pushed a finger in.

The feeling was foreign. It was long and rough, but moved so delicately. He was being careful, pushing in and out with control. When a second was added alongside the first, Nick gasped. Clay was being slow, gentle; scissoring the prince open with deliberate and careful movements.

Nick relaxed into the bed, letting himself sink into the comforter as Clay worked him open. Soft sighs escaped him as he melted into the touch, the unusual and unfamiliar feeling that poured heat like hot water over his body. Clay stretched him until a third finger slipped in easily. Then he pressed in _hard_.

Nick jolted with a gasp, the knight’s fingers suddenly worming, pressing, searching, _deep_. He pulled out a little, and then pushed in again, deeper, curling his fingers. Nick had to slap a hand over his mouth to muffle the _guttural_ moan that forced its way past his lips. Clay’s fingers brushed over the most sensitive part buried in his gut, causing Nick’s hips to jerk up suddenly. Clay brushed it again, then again, gently massaging his fingers against Nick’s prostate. The prince shook with the movement, breath devolving into rushed gasps and hiccuping inhales.

_“Clay_ ,” the prince warned, to no avail. The knight’s other hand moved from its idle resting place, coming to close around Nick’s hardening cock. The prince jolted, stuttering and stalling between grinding up into the knight’s hand or down against his fingers. “Clay, _stop_. If y-you don’t stop, I’m gonna cum.”

“Do you not want to?” Clay asked, and Nick could _hear_ the impish grin worming its way into the other man’s speech. He continued to abuse the prince’s prostate, fingers working gently but with _agonizing_ consistency. Hooking, curling, _dragging_ down his walls. The knight’s hand worked over the blushing head of Nick’s cock, teasing pre-cum from the tip.

“Not yet.” Nick bit his lip _hard_ , but was unable to stop himself from _mewling_ through the shocks of pleasure. “I-I wanna cum with you inside me.”

Clay froze. If _that_ didn’t immediately convince him. He withdrew his fingers and his hand, and Nick breathed out his disappointment, the hollow feeling of being empty returning. But, he was allowed to catch his breath, chest heaving. He swallowed a few times, hands coming up to cover his face and wipe away the sweat on his brow.

“Still good?” Clay’s voice was warm, but cautious. Nick nodded, pushing his hands up through his hair. He let his eyes open, falling immediately on the knight between his legs. Clay put a tentative hand on the prince’s lightly shaking thigh.

“Yeah,” the prince confirmed. He was fine. “Just a lot all at once.”

Clay hummed with a nod. “You ready, then?

“Yeah,” Nick echoed himself; he wasn’t really sure what else to say at that point.

He watched with placid interest as Clay poured more lube onto his fingers. He slicked his own cock, then moved to use the left-over lube on his hand to give a few gentle pumps to the prince. Nick sighed, hips raising ever so slightly to meet Clay’s hand, which made the knight smile.

Moving his grip back to the prince’s hips, Clay moved them around, shifting so that both of Nick’s legs were over his hips, ankles crossed over the small of his back.

“Tell me if you need to stop,” Clay murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to his prince’s lips. He slipped a hand down to hold the base of his cock, lining himself up, looking to Nick for a last confirmation. The prince nodded.

Clay pushed in at an achingly slow pace. Nick choked, his breath catching in his throat. He held it for a moment, body tensing as he felt every inch of Clay sliding into him. Nick shuddered, his hands gripping tightly on Clay’s shoulders until their hips met, the blond resting fully inside.

Nick let out the breath he had been holding in the form of a wobbly moan. Clay huffed a slightly amused sound that ghosted air over Nick’s flushed skin. Nick’s nails sunk crescent patterns into the knight’s shoulders when Clay moved, shifting his hips back, creating a delicious but _sudden_ and overwhelming friction.

“ _Wait_ , wait,” Nick’s voice cracked. He let out a shuddery breath, his hands sliding across the knight’s broad shoulders, crossing around his neck and dragging the blond down again so that his face was tucked into the crook of the prince’s neck. “Just...just wait here a moment.”

“Okay,” Clay said, simple and curt. Understanding and soft. 

_Stupid_ , Nick thought through the haze. He thumbed gently over Nick’s hip bones, squeezing gently, sliding up and down his side, grounding Nick in the moment.

Nick felt like he was burning up inside. There was a fire in his gut that licked and grew, spreading warmth, an almost _unbearable_ warmth through him. He screwed his eyes shut, the dim lantern light still pressing into the back of his eyelids. It was too much, all at once, and yet, the gentle brush of a kiss on his neck, the hands on his hips, the tickle of blond hair on his jaw, all of it kept him tethered; kept him held down.

He had never felt so close to another person before. All of his previous experiences—spending a cheery night stupid and giggling with a maid or a pretty noblewoman—they didn’t hold the same weight. He didn’t feel like his skin was on fire, didn’t feel like _crying_. This felt, for lack of a better word, _real_ , and scarily, _scarily_ meaningful.

Nick took a deep breath. _In_ , and then _out_. With every little movement, he felt Clay’s chest pressed flush against his own.

“Okay,” he finally said. “Okay, you can move.”

Clay adjusted his grip on the prince’s hips, shifting him up as the knight pulled his hips back, and then _down_ as he brought their bodies back together. Nick’s mouth fell open, jaw slack with a silent cry. Clay repeated the movement, again. _Again._ Until they fell into a gentle rhythm. Nick breathed in through his nose, Clay stealing his breath with suffocating kisses.

“Move faster,” the prince demanded, earning himself another kiss.

“Are you sure?” Clay snorted, half amused, half genuine in his question.

“Fucking _positive_ ,” Nick huffed. Clay breathed out a bemused laugh, lips curling against the prince’s own.

“As you wish,” he purred, and with that he clawed into the prince’s hips, bringing their bodies together with a rough jerk and a _filthy_ noise. The prince _groaned_.

“Oh _fuck_.” Nick tossed his head back into the pillows beneath him. The heat rushed up his stomach, ripping through his gut and up into his chest. Butterflies on fire swirled in the wake.

“You alright?” Clay’s voice stayed low, but full of mirth.

_“Perfect_ ,” the prince choked out. “Keep going.”

Clay needed no more incentive. He rocked his hips into a steady pace again, occasionally giving a particularly deep thrust that made the prince whine and squeeze his thighs around Clay’s middle. The thrusts got faster, and Nick’s moans got louder.

“ _Clay, Clay, Clay,”_ Nick gasped. He tossed his head back, spine arching on the bedsheets. He tore into the knight’s shoulders, raking lines of red with his blunt nails. Clay’s own hands remained firm on the prince’s hips, squeezing flushed skin between his fingers.

The knight kissed every inch of Nick’s skin he could reach, peppering light kisses over his collar bones, up his neck, across his jaw. Nick continued to make throaty noises of praise and pleasure as Clay spoiled him with sharp thrusts and soft kisses. Clay breathed compliments and sighs across the other man’s skin. One of Clay’s hands came up from Nick’s hip, searching for and finding one of the prince’s hands on his shoulder. Their fingers laced together, Nick’s grip tight and trembling.

“ _God,_ you’re good,” Nick choked out between moans, breathing heavily. “You’re so fucking good.”

“Singing me praises?” Clay chuckled, a laugh bubbling from deep in his chest. “I like you like this; all fallen apart and _desperate_ .” Despite the smooth coo of his voice, his continued movements betrayed his own desperation. “I’ll have to— _ah_ —get you like this more often, if it means I get such lovely compliments.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Nick groaned, cutting himself off with a gasp when Clay angled a thrust _deep_ inside of him. Nick’s grip on Clay’s hand strengthened for a moment, and with the last little bit of defiance left in him he raked his other hand up into the knight’s hair, gripping at the shorter hairs at the back of his head, pushing Clay’s head down against his skin. Clay obliged in the silent request, shutting himself up and sucking gently at the junction between the prince’s neck and shoulder. Clay kissed and nipped a line of marks, leaving a wake of brands, bruises the prince would trace later with his eyes, his fingertips, and reminisce.

Clay’s thrusts were getting more desperate. Nick felt the heavy tension strung in the air, oppressive and hot between them; neither of them would last much longer like this. _Especially_ when Clay pulled away from the prince’s neck and sat back on his calves, tossing his hair out of his face with a sharp movement. He looked like a god in the dim light of the prince’s bedroom, glistening with sweat, still clutching tightly to the prince’s hand.

“God, I had been waiting for this.” Clay’s eyes drifted to their interlocked hands. His voice was wrecked, low and gravely. “Craving you like _this_. Wanting to feel you, wanting to see you, just like this.”

Halting in his movements for a moment, Clay dropped the hand on Nick’s waist to his thigh, hoisting the prince into a better angle, adjusting Nick’s legs around him so they were secured tighter around his waist. 

“It’s well worth the wait,” Clay mumbled, a glint Nick hated to love in his eyes, “if you were wondering—”

Nick dug into the knight’s back with his heels, spurring him on again. Dream grunted, huffy at being interrupted, but he wasn’t one to deny this specific request.

With Nick’s legs wrapped tightly around him, Clay moved his hand to grasp at the base of the prince’s cock, stroking it in time with his thrusts. Nick made a _guttural_ noise, loud and heavenly. Clay cursed under his breath, committing the sound to memory.

“ _Clay_ ,” Nick returned to his chant, interlacing the knight’s name with _please_ and _keep going_ ; a desperate plea. He was close.

“I know,” Clay’s chin dropped to his chest, hair he had pushed back only moments ago falling loosely into his eyes once again. His own control was fraying at the edges. “I know— _fuck_ —I know. Come on, let go, cum for me.”

The knight didn’t halt his movements, continuing to jerk off the prince, continuing to snap their hips together at a dizzying pace. Nick’s breath hitched, his mantra of Clay’s name broken up by pants, gasps, and moans until he was cumming into the knight’s hand. He keened at the electric touch of Clay’s thumb swiping over his tip.

Clay slowed down his strokes on Nick, easing the other man out of his starry haze. Nick shuddered as his consciousness returned to him, the feeling of Clay still touching him—still inside of him—was suddenly too much. The knight didn’t push him further, taking pity on the prince’s tired body and easing out of him, moving to take his own cock in hand instead. His back bowed, fucking into his hand as he tucked himself back into the crook of Nick’s neck.

“So pretty,” Clay panted. “Did _so_ well, felt so good.”

Clay breathed, hot and heavy against tan skin. Biting down _hard,_ he came, spilling over his fingers and onto the bedsheets.

They caught their breaths, chests moving together, hands still linked. Clay slowly began pressing soft, feather-light kisses along the prince’s neck, first peppering apologies on the harsh bite he gave, then leaving a tired trail up his jaw, until Clay came to his lips, where they shared a warm, far too chaste kiss; they were too tired for anything else.

They moved, eventually, after relishing in the afterglow for a while. Clay moved Nick into a comfortable position, and then left the prince for only a moment, kissing his forehead before wandering to the bathroom to fetch a washcloth. Nick was tired, but he still felt cold alone.

Clay returned, helped the prince clean up, and stripped the bed of the dirtied sheets before sliding back in to rest against the pillows with the prince. 

“How are you doing?” Clay asked, his voice low as to not disturb the air between them. Nick hummed, shuffling more towards the knight.

“Good,” Nick said, humming happily when Clay took the hint and pulled him closer, wrapping the prince in warm arms. “Tired, but good. What about you?”

“Wonderful,” Clay smiled. “You were wonderful.”

“Stop, you can’t get sappy on me now,” Nick grumbled, but was happy to melt peacefully against the other man.

“I can, and I will,” Clay squeezed his arms tighter around the prince’s middle, making the smaller man grunt.

“You’re so annoying. I’m too tired for you.”

“Get some rest, my love,” Clay murmured, petting down the back of Nick’s hair. Nick’s heart skipped a beat.

“Love?” he said, the word was foreign, tumbling ungracefully from his tongue. He felt the knight tense against him.

“Was that too much?” Clay rushed to ask.

“No, no,” Nick was quick to reassure him. “It’s...okay. I’m not sure.”

“Oh.” Clay relaxed a bit, but not all the way. Nick still felt the knight’s arms stiff around him, heard the blond’s heart hammering in his chest from where he was pressed up against it.

“We can talk more about it in the morning, maybe? It’s...important, I guess, but ‘m just exhausted.” Nick gave them an out. He was far too tired to think about things like love. He just wanted to curl up, safe in the knight’s arms, and fall into a warm sleep.

“Of course,” Clay returned, soft as always. He finally sunk back into lax relaxation, resigned to talk about the issue after sleep. Nick frowned, a gentle pout of his lips. He didn’t want Clay thinking the prince was mad at him at all. It’s just that love was…a scary word, and one Nick wasn’t ready to hear in a half-asleep state. They _would_ talk in the morning, and it _would_ all be good things, Nick just needed to rest.

The prince leaned up, bumping his and Clay’s noses together in a lazy movement, but one that got the message across. The knight kissed him gently, and Nick hummed against sweet lips.

“Alright,” Clay said, pulling away. “You should sleep. You’re going to be sore in the morning.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Nick grumbled, but smiled when the response pulled a weak chuckle from Clay.

“Mine, sorry about that,” Clay mused. “Now, _goodnight_ , your majesty.”

“Sleep well, my knight.”

**Author's Note:**

> COMMENT MODERATION IS ON!!! IF YOU DON'T WANT YOUR COMMENT TO BE MADE PUBLIC JUST LMK :D
> 
> Tysm for reading!!!
> 
> -Anon A <3


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